Swiss Family Monkees
by Comickazi13
Summary: Geneva Robinson won a luxury cruise aboard the S.S. Green Lake. There, she meets the Monkees. When the ship wrecks and Geneva and the boys are lost on an island, what will happen? Told from Geneva's POV in the TV show's universe.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One:

I hate flying. But I hate sailing too. As I looked up the long gangplank to the S.S. Green Lake I felt my stomach turn flip-flops. But the line of eager vacationers was shoving me very hard so I had to stumble up the gangplank eventually. Why couldn't someone else have won that dumb cruise? Why couldn't someone else have a pushy mother who was determined to see her daughter have fun at sea?

"Name?" asked the stuffy porter at the top of the stairs. His nose was very pointed and it was stuck up in the air like it had detected a very disgusting scent.

"Geneva Robinson," I sighed.

"Ah!" the porter grinned, suddenly very friendly. "You're the winner of the drawing, are you not? Right this way!" He waved for another snooty porter to take his place as he picked up my heavy, waterproof suitcase and led me up another flight of stairs.

Shipwreck horror stories flashed before my mind. Suppose we hit an iceberg like the Titanic and there weren't enough life boats. Suppose some kind of projectile hit the side of the boat like the Lusitania and blew it to smithereens. Suppose a strong wind capsized the ship like the Mary Rose. Suppose a giant squid attacked like it attacked that submarine in _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_! I blinked, trying to get the thoughts out of my head.

"Here we are," the porter smiled as we came to a large, white door. A brass plaque informed me that the door led to room 226. The porter inserted a small key into the lock on the door and the door swung open. I peeked into the room and despite my paranoia about sinking, I was impressed with the quality.

Everything in the room was white as snow except for everything metal, which was made of beautiful brass. The bedspread was white and lacy, the carpet was white and plushy, the walls were white and glossy, and the furniture was white and smooth. The doorknobs were brass, the frames around the mirrors were brass, and the head board on the bed was brass. I slowly walked in, the porter following me.

"Is everything to your liking, Miss Robinson?" the porter asked nicely. My mouth hung open and, in retrospect, I'm sure I looked just like a dead fish.

"It…It's perfect," I breathed. "It's so beautiful."

"Beautiful room for a beautiful young lady," the porter shrugged, a little smirk plastered across his face. He set my suitcase on my bed and waved goodbye after I had given him a quarter for his services. "Dinner is at five o'clock on the third floor," were his parting words.

(-)(-)(-)

Time seemed to fly very quickly. Soon it was nearing five o'clock. I took a quick shower in my (white and brass) private bathroom and started the daunting task of picking out my outfit for the night. By porter buddy had come back to tell me that there would be dancing, so I needed to pick something fun.

"Out of all the closets in all the world," I groaned as I opened my suitcase, "I had to have the one my mother stocked." My mother's fashion sense was hardly hip. Thankfully, my closet was mostly filled with two-piece outfits so I could mix and match. I picked out a bright pink skirt with a blue-and-green plaid pattern and a pink, button-up, puffy-sleeved blouse. Slipping on my pink pumps, I slipped out of my door and locked it safely behind me. "Time to move it out," I smiled lightly.

The third floor was the one above mine so I only had to climb one flight of stairs. The room on the third floor was very large because it was a community room. The flooring was tile and tables draped with white cloths lined the walls in a large circle. This left the rest of the floor for dancing. A large stage was positioned at the back of the room where there was a small gap in the line of tables.

"Mademoiselle," a maitre d' with a ridiculously long, handlebar mustache greeted me as I walked in, "you look ravishing. Might I show you to your table?" I nodded, blushing. Was all the staff on this boat horribly flirtatious? The headwaiter led me to a table close to the stage and seated me. "We will have your meal out in a moment, Mademoiselle." He bowed and left to seat more people, who were pouring in by the boatload by now.

My eyes wandered around the room, from the gorgeous chandelier hanging from the ceiling, to the fancy patterns of palm trees and pearls on the wallpaper, to the band which was now setting up onstage. When I caught sight of the band, I practically froze there, mesmerized.

I had seen these guys somewhere before! They played at the Vincent Van Go-Go back in Los Angeles! Fancy meeting them on a cruise, I thought. Three of the four musicians wore black tuxedos with black bowties. One of the ones clad in black had a green wool hat perched on his head and a small wave of hair leaning out onto his forehead. The tall man was busy looking at some sheet music. The one not wearing a black tux wore a red-patterned suit, also with a black bowtie. This one was incredibly short and was shaking a tambourine in an attempt to "warm up." The one with sandy-blonde hair was tuning his bass guitar with a small smile on his face like he was enjoying every second of setup. Finally, the drummer, who looked incredibly awkward in his tux, was twirling his drumsticks nervously.

"Mademoiselle?" the waiter asked. I snapped my attention back to the man holding a notepad.

"Sorry," I blushed.

"Oh, no, no," the waiter shrugged. "I am the one to blame. I'll come back when you are ready to order."

"No," I said quickly. "I'm ready. I'll have the…Well…Bring me what you would enjoy having." The waiter smirked and looked over at the band.

"Distracted by handsome young boys?" he asked slyly. I blushed and looked at my feet.

"A little," I giggled nervously. The waiter laughed and walked away, scribbling something on his notepad, most likely my dinner. I hoped he had the same kind of taste that I did.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

Turns out the waiter had exactly the same taste that I had! Whatever I had, it was delicious. After dinner, it was time for the band to play. The tall man with the wool hat advanced to the microphone and stuttered into it.

"H-Hello," he drawled, his Texas accent cracking a bit. "We're the M-Monkees and we're here to play f-for y'all." I smirked, thoroughly enjoying myself for the first time in a long while. "Now, h-here's M-M-Micky Dolenz with _N-Not Your Stepping Stone_." He stepped back and tapped his foot. The drummer lifted up one of his drumsticks and promptly dropped it on the floor.

"Wait a minute," he said quickly into his own microphone. "I…I'm not ready." The short one folded his arms over his chest, maracas sighing along with him.

"C'mon, Micky," he groaned. His English accent was laden with a slight annoyance, as if Micky did this often. "It's just like at the club only the gig is floating." Micky scooped up his drumstick and blushed, biting his lip in embarrassment.

"Okay," he practically whispered. "I'm ready." He played a quick riff on his drums and the other drumstick flew out of his hand, hit my knee, and landed by my feet. I almost screamed, but all that came out was a muffled "mmph" sound. "Sorry!" Micky exclaimed, jumping off the stage. "Nervous. Sweaty hands. I'm so sorry!" People were starting to mutter in disappointment.

"It's okay," I smiled. I reached down and picked up the drumstick. "I believe this belongs to you." Micky blushed fiercely as he took the drumstick from my hand. "I'm looking forward to hear this song," I said, trying to be supportive. Micky turned stiffly on his heels and walked back up to the stage, clutching both drumsticks in his hands.

"Let's do this," I heard him mutter to himself. He played the same riff again and this time, the song went without a hitch. I stood up to dance and twirled my way to the front of the stage. I could see Micky's eyes glue to me and I smiled supportively, shooting him a thumbs-up. He blushed as his voice went silent for a moment with a small squeak. Luckily, the English boy was singing backup and quickly recovered the melody until Micky was out of his trance.

The band went through a few more sets before it was time to go up to bed. The ship's bell rang four times, meaning it was time to retire to our rooms because the rest of the ocean liner's facilities were closed for the night. I brushed myself off and stretched before starting to leave the dining room. Just as I got to the door, an arm flew across my path. I was surprised at first, but I realized it must be Micky from onstage. I turned around, ready to smile and be adorable, but I was, again, surprised.

"Oh," I exclaimed quietly. "It's you." The short English boy raised an eyebrow at me.

"Yeah," he smirked. "I noticed you were dancing out pretty close to the stage." I nodded, looking down at my feet while drawing an imaginary circle on the floor with my toe. "You're a pretty good dancer," the boy grinned. I blushed wildly. "You have a name?" he asked. I snapped my head back up and looked directly into his deep brown eyes. His gaze made me melt like a popsicle on hot cement.

"Um…Geneva Robinson," I said softly. The boy dipped down and grabbed my hand, kissing the back of it.

"My name is Davy Jones," he smiled flirtatiously. Davy let go of my hand and I immediately reached up and felt my cheek. HOT! I snatched my fingers away, hoping he wouldn't notice. Who was I kidding? He would have noticed if the lights were off, my cheeks were glowing so hard. "I hope to see you around sometime again, Geneva," Davy whispered in my ear. Gosh! Was he that close before? I slowly pulled away, smiling sweetly.

"Likewise, I'm sure," I laughed nervously as I slipped out the door. I walked back downstairs to my room and quickly got myself inside. Dang it! Why was I such a dork when it came to boys that were hot like that?

(-)(-)(-)

I sat at my dresser, brushing my red hair carefully. I looked at myself in the mirror. There I was! Geneva Robinson: owner and proprietor of one set of bright green eyes and about a million freckles up and down my nose. My skin was very nicely tanned because I loved running around the sand at the beach. I was in my little nightgown, some sleep shorts underneath, and about ready to go to bed when I heard a knock at my door. I thought it might my porter buddy and I quickly got up to answer.

"Hello," shrugged the sheepish blonde from the band. I stopped dead in my tracks and gaped for a bit. I could've sworn that every single male on this ship was either attracted to me or homosexual!

"Hi?" I said in a questioning tone. "Can I help you?" The blonde looked down at his feet and bit his lip.

"I…I got lost on my way to my room," he mumbled. "Can you tell me where I am?" So that's all he wanted, to find out where he was. That was okay. In fact, it was kind of cute that he got lost in the first place.

"You're on the second level," I smiled sweetly. "Room 226. Hey, what's your name?"

"Peter," he answered. He looked at me with his Bambi eyes and half-smiled. "I won't bother you anymore, though. I'll be on my way…Um…What's _your_ name?"

"Geneva," I said. "What floor are you on?"

"First," he replied easily over his shoulder before disappearing back over the stairs. I cocked my head to one side before ducking back inside my room. He didn't need to come up to my floor to know where he was. He should've known that he didn't have to climb any stairs to get back to his floor. He came up to see _me_. Suddenly, I was starting to feel close to three different guys.

"It's okay," I told myself. "I can handle it. No sweat." I quietly crawled into bed and fell asleep without any more thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three:

I bolted straight upward as I heard a scream in the hall. This was followed by several voices and a commotion that resembled feet running. I jumped out of bed and immediately fell to one side of the room. My God! The ship was tilted! Images of the Titanic flashed back to my mind and I was reminded of my hate for sailing. I quickly burst through the door and began to run for my life.

The deck below was even more chaotic than my own floor. Screaming passengers were everywhere as the dark sky rocked above us. Rain came pouring down in buckets, completely drenching me the second I walked out. I added my own blood-curdling scream to the mix and ran to the side. Looking over, I could see that it was a very long way down to the turbulent waves below. But I would rather swim to safety than drown like a rat. I quickly climbed up the railing.

"HEY!" someone shouted. "WAIT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" But it was too late to be talked down now and I leapt over the side, splashing in the water.

I knew the minute I hit that ice, cold water I made a huge mistake. I started to fling my arms around, trying to keep my head above the water. I could see a large whirlpool toward the front of the boat and I was starting to drift toward it.

"HELP!" I screamed. I heard more splashing and I realized that I could have waited for a lifeboat. I tried to paddle towards one of the long boats, but I was being dragged toward the whirlpool too much. "HELP!" I shrieked again. The water swirled around me and my head was dragged underwater. I felt my lungs begin to fill up with the sea.

Suddenly, I felt a pair of arms wrap around my waist, hoisting me up so my head was above the water. I could feel myself being propelled away from the whirlpool. When I looked to see who my hero was, all I could see was a bright orange life vest. Mentally, I slapped myself in the face for not grabbing one before leaping off the boat like a suicidal idiot. I closed my eyes with exhaustion.

"Oh my God!" exclaimed a voice. "Is she okay?"

"I dunno," answered a voice directly above me. "I think she fainted."

"I would too if I almost got sucked into a vortex," gasped another voice.

"Fellas, we need to start swimming if we are going to catch up to those lifeboats," a fourth voice interjected. There was a long pause.

"I don't think we _can_ catch up to those boats, Pete," the first voice said breathlessly. I lost consciousness.

(-)(-)(-)

When I woke up, I didn't open my eyes immediately. I felt something hot and grainy beneath my hands and arms and…something soft, pleasant, and warm on my lips. I shot my eyes open to see the guitarist from the Monkees kissing me! Noticing I was awake, he quickly pulled away.

"I was just…uh…just giving you…uh…mouth-to-mouth," he stumbled over his words. I was speechless.

"Thank goodness you're okay!" exclaimed Peter. "Your eyes were closed when Mike saved you from that whirlpool and we thought for sure that you were dead or something!" I looked around me to see that I was on a beach. The crystal, blue water shimmered in the sun, calm and peaceful.

"Are…Are we on a deserted island?" I asked in disbelief. There wasn't time for either Mike or Peter to answer before I heard yelling down the shoreline. A breathless Micky and Davy soon rushed to our place on the beach.

"There's no one else here," Davy panted, his English accent growing very thick in his exhaustion. Micky's eyes glued to me again and he attempted to say something.

"We…There's no…We're just…" Micky's voice trailed off. Davy rolled his eyes and completed Micky's thought.

"We appear to be the only survivors of the wreck." I tried to catch my breath, but it wasn't working. Me…four boys…alone…on a desert island…This could not be good. It wasn't happening! I was dreaming! When I woke up, I'd be back home in LA, listening to my radio. My eyes rolled back in my head and I fainted.

(-)(-)(-)

When I rose again, I was in the shade of some palm trees. Their waxy, green leaves swayed above me in a slight, ocean breeze, allowing sunlight to dapple through them. I could smell salt, sand, and bird poop, which, all-in-all wasn't that bad a smell. I imagined a ukulele playing in the distance and mixed it with the sounds of the sea birds.

"Morning, sleepyhead," a familiar voice called. I looked up to see Davy walking towards me. "We've been taking shifts to make sure you don't get eaten by wild animals. While one does that, the other three have been building a shelter." None of this registered until Davy was standing over me.

"Oh," I said sleepily. Davy scooped me up (I was exactly his height) and proceeded to carry me off towards the shoreline.

"Wait'll you see what four fellas with a common goal can do in just a matter of hours," he winked.

"W-Was I really out for _hours_?" I asked in dazed confusion. Davy didn't answer because we had reached the beach.

"Look who's up!" he shouted over to the three boys who were now working on a small shelter-like structure. I hadn't noticed that they weren't wearing their tuxedos until now.

Mike was wearing a dirty-pink shirt, grey pants, and of course, his wool hat, which he had somehow salvaged from the sinking ship. I wondered if he slept in it. Peter was wearing black pants and a loose, orange sweater which had a fold-over collar. Micky sported a similar sweater only his was blue and he wore off-white pants. Finally, Davy was wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt that was purple and had black, horizontal stripes. His pants were beige. I didn't know if they looked better wearing tuxes or casual clothes. I felt suddenly out of place in my same little nightgown and I wished I had something better to change into.

"Morning, sunshine," Peter grinned. He put down a palm frond and started to walk over to me. "Have a good sleep?" When Peter's face was right next to mine, I realized that Davy was still holding me. I blushed fiercely.

"Can you please put me down, Davy?" I practically squeaked. Davy smirked before letting my feet touch the sand. My toes immediately were submerged in the tiny grains. I felt the sea wind wisp up my short nightdress and I kept it from revealing too much by holding the sides down with my fingertips.

"So I have to get back to working with the fellas," Davy sighed. "After all, I have been watching you for my allotted half an hour. Whose turn is it now?"

"Ooh! Ooh! Me! Me! Me!" Peter shouted, jumping up and down and raising his hand. Davy laughed, rolling his eyes.

"Hey, Mike!" he shouted. "Who had the shift after me?" Mike looked up at the sky and thought for a minute.

"Uh, I think Micky did," he called back. Micky immediately dropped a large piece of driftwood on Mike's toe. Mike yelped in pain, starting to hop up and down on his good foot.

"Sorry!" Micky exclaimed. Mike and Micky both bent down to pick up the wood and there was a loud clunk as their heads collided. Mike howled again, cradling his head in his hands, and Micky screamed, "SORRY!" while rubbing his forehead with his palm.

"Just get the girl and get out of here," Mike grimaced before scooping up the driftwood and filling a large hole in the side of a wall. Micky blushed and speed-walked over to me, grabbing my hand and hauling me off into the trees.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four:

As we walked through the giant palm trees, Micky talked to himself. Well, he was scolding himself, rather.

"God, George Michal Dolenz," he grumbled, "the second you start liking some chick you become a muttering moron and you beat up on your best friends."

"I didn't know your first name was George," I said quietly. He gave me a sidelong glance, shivered, blushed, and continued telling himself off.

"You're such a coward," he growled to himself. "You spend all that time fantasizing about asking the girl out and then you _chicken_ out every single time she talks to you. Do you realize what a loser you are?"

"I don't think you're a loser," I muttered. Micky almost tripped over his own feet. As he was turning to look at me, I noticed that his cheeks were flaming red. Whether it was from standing in the sun too long or from being complimented by a girl he had a crush on I didn't know.

"You…You don't?" he asked. I shook my head.

"Nope," I smiled. "You're not at fault for liking someone and that you can't tell her."

"Then you don't think I'm chicken?"

"No. You just want to find the perfect way to say how you feel," I shrugged. Suddenly, I felt color rush to _my_ cheeks as well and I looked at my feet. There was a long silence. I wondered if Micky was going to start laughing at me for being so mushy.

All of a sudden, Micky tilted my chin up so I was looking at him. I felt his lips softly press to mine and my heart fluttered. Slowly, I closed my eyes and kissed back. The kiss only lasted for five seconds (and yes, I counted) before Micky pulled away. There was another long silence. But this one wasn't awkward.

"That's how I decided to say it," Micky breathed. He looked into my green eyes and I returned the stare steadily into his dark brown eyes. Just being around him now gave me an excited shiver down my spine. I _thought_ I was attracted to him before. Now I _knew_ that I was downright falling for him.

Not that I was "in love" with him or anything. No. Love took a longer time to achieve. I knew this from the many celebrity relationships that were flushed down the toilet because they had gotten married after the third or fourth date. Well, there was no danger of taking it too quickly on a deserted island. There wasn't a minister here to marry me to any of the guys.

"Why don't we try to find some food or something?" I managed to whisper. Micky smiled and nodded before taking my hand and continuing to walk me through the trees.

(-)(-)(-)

"And so my mother sent me on that luxury cruise but I didn't like it much but then I went to the show and I really liked that so I decided it wouldn't be so bad to stay on and then that storm sank us and I remembered how much I don't like being on the water for anything really and…"

"Geneva," Micky interrupted, "do you breathe?" I blushed.

"Sorry," I said, biting my lip. "I…I do that sometimes when I just talk and I don't know when to stop." Micky chuckled and rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand.

"It's okay," he smiled. "I like to hear you talking. I just don't understand how anyone can just talk and talk and talk and never know when to just take a breath and they just keep rambling on and on and the people they're talking to are making shopping lists only that never happens when you're talking to me because I just love hearing you talk and I'm doing it aren't I?" I laughed as I nodded. Micky pouted but he soon grinned. "I love your laugh," he said simply.

"Aw," I blushed, "you're just saying that."

"No I'm not," Micky protested, kissing me on the cheek. I smiled dumbly and looked down at my shoes. "You know, despite how much I'm sure your feet must love the view, I'm more positive that the rest of the world wants to see that pretty face as well."

"Oh," I giggled, my face reddening by the second. Micky's arm stretched around me.

"Well at least _I_ want to see that pretty face," he flirted. I giggled again and rested my head on Micky's shoulder. We walked for a bit more before we came to a small clearing. "Hey, look!" Micky exclaimed, running over to a large tree. Its root had pushed up, forcing a small trickle of water up to the surface. I bent over and cupped some of the cool water in my palm.

"It's drinkable," I said after I sipped it carefully. "Tastes just like the water you can get in your home." Micky tested it too.

"You're right," he agreed. "We've got fresh water on this island!" We celebrated a small victory by hugging each other. "Guess it's not as bad as we thought. If there's fresh water, there must be food." We hugged again and he looked deep into my eyes. Micky leaned in and kissed me softly on the lips.

"Oh my God!" I heard a British accent exclaim from the trees behind us. I pulled away from Micky and whirled around to see….

"Davy?" I asked in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

"Mike sent me off to look for food and water," he growled. "Guess you two found _something_ to celebrate about. Micky, can I talk to you for a moment?" Davy grabbed Micky's arm and hauled him off into the trees.

Now, curiosity killed the cat. But when it comes to situations like this one, just call me Fluffy and feed me tuna fish. I snuck up to the back of one of the trees and listened to the argument ensue.

"What do you think you're doing?" Davy mumbled hostilely.

"Whaddya mean?" Micky asked.

"Hanging all over Geneva like that!" Davy yelled. There was a pause while Davy collected himself. "I thought we made a pact that none of us would go after Geneva because it would split us apart. Did we learn nothing from that April fiasco?"

"Geneva told me to tell her how I felt," Micky shrugged, "and I did!"

"What did you do?"

"I kissed her."

"MICKY!" Davy shouted in what almost sounded like disgust. "What am I supposed to tell the others? They'll be incredibly upset!"

"Tell them the truth," Micky thought out loud.

"You must be joking," Davy huffed. "Tell the others that you're all lovey-dovey with the _one girl _on this island? You're just asking for a fight. I was tempted to start one when I saw you locking lips with her."

Davy was right. I'd seen a lot of programs on TV about animals and what they'll do to survive. Four males all wanting one female was not a pretty sight. In fact, I usually turned off the TV when I could see such a fight coming. I hated violence. It made me sick.

"Well, despite what we're gonna tell the guys," Micky sighed, "we should get back to camp. Maybe Mike and Peter have found some food."

"You do know I'm still _very_ mad," Davy growled. "I'll be keeping an eye on you, Dolenz." I shuddered while my mind played pictures of bloody noses, black eyes, and broken bones over and over again.

(-)(-)(-)

"You'll never believe how much food we found!" Peter exclaimed over the fire that night. In simply one day, the four guys had managed to build a shelter, find food, and find clean water! It was truly astonishing.

Mike was cooking a large fish in a makeshift pan over the curling flames as Davy glowered at Micky inconspicuously. Micky had "lost his appetite" and was now scooting further and further away from the warm circle of visible area.

"Yeah," Mike agreed. "A pond of fish, a grove of fruit trees, and wild-birds' nests." Peter grinned, his face lit up by the red glow of the fire.

"We got really lucky, being washed up on _this_ island," he said sweetly. I nodded, smiling widely.

After a surprisingly scrumptious dinner, the boys took me into the shelter and told me that I was going to sleep in the only bed. (The "bed" was actually a hammock made of leaves, vines, and other things.) I protested, saying that if they could sleep on the ground, so could I. But, I was obviously outnumbered, so I gave in and climbed into the hammock. The first day on the island ended with me silently drifting off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five:

When I woke up the next morning, there was snoring all around me. The sunlight was trickling through the small openings in the palm-frond-roof. I rolled onto my side…and fell off the hammock entirely. Lucky for me I had incredibly fast reflexes and I managed to land in a part of the floor that was not inhabited by snoring band members. I quietly crawled out and stood up to my full height of five feet, three inches on the beach.

The ocean still looked beautiful and pristine, like it would never storm again. I walked up the beach and sat down, cross-legged, on the sand right under a shady tree. I watched the waves crash on the sand and then reel back in to continue their cycle.

"Good morning," said a voice. I felt a hand on my shoulder and I turned my head.

"Good morning," I smiled at Davy. He smiled back and sat down next to me.

"What are you doing?" he asked. I shrugged and averted my eyes back to the ocean. I took a deep breath.

"Just looking at the water," I sighed. "It relaxes me." Davy sighed as well and leaned back on his elbows, feet stretched out in front of him.

"At a time like this, most people would start to overreact," he pointed out. "I think it's a pretty good idea to relax when you're in a bad position. Helps clear the mind and then you can think about how to fix the problem." I nodded. There was a long pause. "Is your heart set on him?" Davy questioned randomly. I looked over at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Is my _what_ set on _who_?"

"Are you absolutely sure you like Micky?" Davy asked, rephrasing his question. I thought for a moment, trying to find the right way to break the news to him.

"I dunno," I lied. "I just met the guy." Davy scooted closer to me.

"So…the rest of us have a chance?" he winked. My legs tensed up and my toes curled in. I tried to say something, but my mouth just hung open like a retard. Davy leaned in closer and put his chin on my shoulder. "Do _I_ have a chance?" he whispered in my ear. A shiver ran up my spine and I closed my eyes.

"I…I…I dunno," I squeaked. Davy smirked and kissed my neck. I shivered again.

"I'm sure…you could…find a way to…make some time…for me," he purred, leaving a trail of kisses down to my collar bone between phrases. My eyes rolled back in my head and I moaned quietly.

"I…think I can," I sighed.

Davy's hot breath on my neck suddenly became too much to handle and I whirled around and mashed my lips up to his. Grabbing my waist, he fell back onto the sand, me on top of him. My fingers combed through his dark brown hair. Although it was dirty from the sweat of working the day before, it felt silky and smooth. What kind of shampoo did this guy use, anyway? Whatever it was, it was fabulous! We sat, making out on the beach, for perhaps five minutes…five glorious minutes. Davy was an amazing kisser!

Then…realization hit like a torpedo in the side of my Love Boat. I still liked Micky…a lot. I quickly pulled away. Davy looked at me, passion burning in his eyes. He reached up and touched my cheek, tracing the shape down to my chin and then down my neck.

"What's the matter, love?" he asked, his sexy British accent slurring a bit. Be strong, I told myself. I stood up, dusting myself off.

"I…I don't think this is right," I stuttered, my voice cracking. Davy stood up too and hugged my waist.

"What's right?" he questioned. I shivered as his breath hit my neck. It was intoxicating!

"I…I like Micky!" I announced. I thought that Davy's expression would read something along the lines of Earth-Shattering-Sadness, but I was horribly wrong. Instead, Davy looked at me strangely for a moment, kissed my lips again, and whispered in my ear.

"He doesn't have to know about it. None of the guys do."

(-)(-)(-)

"OH MY GOD!" Micky screamed from the water. He paddled his way back over from the deeper part of the cove to the shore and hugged me so tightly I couldn't breathe. "It touched my leg! It touched my leg! It touched my leg! It touched my leg! It touched my LEG!" He was shaking like a leaf.

"Calm down," I smiled. "What touched your leg?"

"Something c-cold and s-slimy," he stuttered, hugging me even tighter. I managed to untangle myself from his arms and looked at him critically.

"It was a fish," I told him matter-of-factly.

"What's up?" Mike asked as he came down from the shelter.

"Something touched my leg!" Micky exclaimed, going back into his dramatics.

I rolled my eyes. Sometimes, Micky could be such a little spaz. I had learned this in the last week that we had been on the island. I had been with both Micky and Davy (and feeling horrible about cheating on poor Micky) for the last two weeks. My little group of Animal Channel in Real Life had been stranded for about a month and a day. That nightgown I was wearing was starting to look very ratty and torn. It wouldn't be long before I would have to find a way to either make clothes out of island surroundings or borrow one of the guy's shirts, hoping that it would cover me up enough.

"Maybe it was an octopus," Davy suggested as he came down to the shoreline. "Taking you down to its garden in the shade?"

"I think it was a mermaid," Peter proposed, a goofily cute grin stuck on his face. (He had been sitting with me on the beach while Micky took a swim.) Micky and Davy rolled their eyes as Mike patted Peter on the shoulder. There was a long pause.

"C'mon, Micky," I sighed, breaking the silence. "Let's go get you dried off." We headed off towards the shelter. We hadn't taken more than ten steps before Micky started to shake uncontrollably. "Oh God," I said nervously, my grip tightening on Micky's arm. "Micky? Micky, are you okay?"

"Y-Y-Yeah," he stuttered. He tried to take another step before collapsing on the sand. I shrieked.

"MIKE!" I shouted. "MIKE, HELP!" I knelt down beside Micky, placing his head in my lap. The towering Texan ran over, falling to his knees as well. "W-What's wrong with him?" I whimpered, tears welling up in my eyes. Somehow, I couldn't help thinking that this was, in some way, my fault. Mike looked Micky over once or twice. He lifted up both legs of Micky's pants and suddenly stared at Micky's left leg. He pointed to several tiny, black, slimy creatures.

"Leeches," he whispered. My blood froze.

"I thought they only hung out in freshwater!" I squeaked. Mike looked down at the bloodsucking parasites and scratched his head.

"I guess not," he shrugged. Then, the Mike we all know and love took charge. He turned toward Davy and began to bark orders. "Get a fire started. We need a smoldering branch. Make sure it's really green."

"What can I do?" Peter asked quietly. Mike thought for a moment.

"Stay here with Mick and Ginny," he said. "God knows how much blood those crazy little things must've gotten by now."

"Oh my God," I sniffled, looking down at Micky's face. Was it just me, or was his skin incredibly pale? "MIKE," I screamed, "HURRY!" Mike nodded before running off to help Davy with the fire.

"It'll be okay," Peter promised.

"How do _you_ know?" I snapped. "He could die and it'd be all my fault! You can't possibly know if it'll be okay!" Peter pulled back and looked at me, tears in his eyes. I realized what I had done and felt horrible. "Oh my gosh. Peter, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you like that." Peter sniffed and nodded.

"I know you didn't," he sighed. "I'm okay. Just…don't do it again…all right?"

"Never again," I promised. Peter smiled his cute smile before I looked back down at Micky's head in my lap. In my mind, I cursed those dumb leeches for latching on to _my_ Micky. The little fiends had no right to live! I felt a hot tear simmer through my eyes and fall down my cheeks, burning them.

"Ginny," Peter whispered, "Micky will be okay. Mike knows what he's doing." I looked at him, questions in my eyes. "One time, he went swimming in this one lake in Texas when he was little. He didn't know what leeches felt like, so he just kept paddling around until he felt woozy. It was from loss of blood. Anyway, he got out and his dad saw the leeches and burned them off with a cigarette butt."

"Out of the way, ol' buddy!" Mike exclaimed as he came running towards us with a simmering stick. Peter scrambled away from Micky's legs as Mike bent down and began to gently prod the leeches with the hot twig until the parasites fell into the sand. When the deed was done, Davy scooped the little slug-like things in a pan and threw them back into the ocean before helping Mike and Peter carry Micky into the shelter. "It's gonna be okay now, Ginny," Mike promised me. He put his arm around me and rubbed my shoulder soothingly. "He's just gonna be weak for a couple days."

"I'll take care of him," I whispered. Mike hugged me.

"You're a really nice gal," he sighed. "Micky sure is lucky." I thought for a moment.

"You just keep saving lives left and right," I smiled shakily. "First mine from that shipwreck and now Micky's from those little monsters." Mike blushed slightly.

"It's nothing," he shrugged. He gave me one more hug, turned on his heels, and marched out of the shelter, leaving me to take care of Micky for the next couple of days.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six:

Slowly, nighttime fell on the island. Micky was still out cold and I was still worried sick. However, Mike told me that if I slept a bit, it might help. So, I curled up on a small area of floor and attempted to drift into Dreamland. I was almost there when I heard movement from another part of the shelter.

"Um…Ginny?" whispered a voice. "Ginny, are you awake?" I rolled onto my other side to see Peter's shape silhouetted in the moonlight coming in from the roof.

"What is it, Peter?" I asked. There was a pause.

"I…I had a nightmare," he said. I could see his cheeks glow a little. "Can I sleep with you?" I scooted over, allowing more room on my piece of floor to be available.

"Sure," I smiled. I patted the place next to me and Peter lay down. "What was the nightmare about?" I asked quietly so none of the others would wake up.

"Micky died," Peter whimpered softly. It was quiet for a few minutes before I turned back and looked at Peter. His face was stricken with worry. Gently, I placed my hand on his cheek, rubbing my thumb over the skin.

"He…He'll be okay, Pete," I promised. "Remember? Mike knew what he was doing. You told me so." Peter started to cry.

"But…But…But I'm the dummy," he sniffled. "Everyone says so." I hugged him and stroked his hair.

"Do _you_ think you are?" I asked. Peter was silent for a while, thinking.

"No," he finally said. I pulled away from him and looked in his eyes. They were filled with fear, sadness, and confusion. I felt even worse for snapping at him earlier that day.

"Well, all that matters is what _you_ think of yourself," I told him. Since when did I become such a mother?

"I think it matters what _you_ think of me," Peter whispered. "I really like you." My heart stopped momentarily. I tensed up and then released.

"You do?" I asked. Peter nodded. In the dark, his hand found mine. He smiled.

"You're really nice and really pretty." I blushed, something I hadn't done in several weeks. It felt strangely unknown, but oddly familiar, like seeing an old best friend that you grew apart from.

"Thank you," I smiled.

"I…I know you're with Micky," Peter said, mostly to the air. "I tell myself that so I don't go after you." His lips grazed mine.

There was a silence, broken only by the sounds of our breathing and the snores coming from Mike and Davy. Peter was centimeters away from me…millimeters…kissing. His soft lips pressed to mine. He wasn't as good a kisser as Davy and there weren't really shivers going up and down my spine like when I kissed Micky. But this was still nice, just being slightly attached to him by our lips. It was an innocent little kiss. It only lasted about five seconds. Then, he pulled away, a shocked expression on his face.

"I…I'm sorry," he whimpered. "I won't do that again. I don't want to break anything up." I put my pointer finger on his lips.

"Don't worry about it," I muttered. I kissed his cheek. "I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight, Peter." I cuddled up to him and fell asleep. Just as I was slipping into slumber, I felt Peter's arms wrap around my waist. I smiled.

(-)(-)(-)

Approximately a week had gone by and Micky was up and running, meaning that I could do what I wanted now. Not that I would have begrudged Micky for being attacked by leeches. I just was tired of staying in the shelter all day when nothing was really happening.

A few days ago, Peter had reported finding a warm pool of freshwater. We still had our spring for drinking and cooking water so there was a unanimous decision that this pond would be used for bathing. Thank God because the guys and I were getting pretty rancid.

"I'm going to go take a bath," I announced to the four boys as they fished for tonight's dinner. Mike nodded and turned back to what he was doing. Peter smiled and waved _so-long-for-now_. Davy winked at me flirtatiously.

"Hurry back," Micky grinned, giving me a quick hug. I kissed his cheek before heading off towards the pond.

The bathing pool was surrounded by a bunch of trees, creating the perfect shower curtain. As I walked through the thick leaves, I slipped out of my nightdress and into the warm water. I sighed as the hot water sizzled on my skin. I dunked my head underwater and felt my face tingle in pleasure. It was like walking into a Jacuzzi on high. I turned somersaults and did cartwheels, weightless in the pool. I blew bubbles through my nose as I sunk to the bottom and allowed the water to rush all around me. When I popped back up again, I wasn't alone.

"Hey, love," Davy greeted me, smirking. I screamed, sinking up to my neck in the water.

"Davy, I'm taking a bath!" I exclaimed. He laughed, wading in.

"I know," he shrugged. "I just wanted to see you, that's all." This wasn't right. I felt so exposed. I found myself up against a rocky wall and I shivered. "Why are you running, Ginny?" he purred. He looked so freaking sexy! Screw this, I thought. I swam up to Davy and let him kiss me. My hands rested on his shoulders. We would have continued our make-out if it hadn't been for one little thing.

"WHAT THE HELL?!" exclaimed a very flustered Micky from the shore. I yanked out of Davy's grip and looked at Micky like a deer in headlights. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY GIRLFRIEND, DAVID THOMAS JONES?!" I sunk back to the bottom of the pool.

(-)(-)(-)

"Micky, I'm sorry!" I cried. We were now tearing through the forest like a bulldozer, simply bowling over anything in our path. Micky's grip on my wrist was horribly strong and I thought he was cutting off my circulation.

"No," Micky growled. "'Sorry,' is when you step on someone's foot. 'Sorry,' is when you forget to do the laundry one day! 'SORRY,' DOES _NOT_ CUT IT THIS TIME!" His fingernails dug into my skin and I screamed.

"You're hurting me!" I exclaimed, tears falling from my eyes.

"And you think you didn't hurt me?!" he yelled. "_I_ thought I _loved_ you! GOD, Geneva! It's like you don't even realize what you did was wrong!"

"I'm SORRY!" I shouted. "I didn't know what was happening!"

"It sure _looked_ like you did!" Micky kept hauling me through the woods back to the beach. "We're through! Do you hear me, you little slut? We…are…_through_!" My mind stopped working. I couldn't breathe. I was no longer aware of the excruciating pain in my wrist.

In my mind, my inner voices screamed simultaneously. "Well, you deserved it," said one voice. "You _were_ cheating on him. You thought he'd never find out, did you? Well, you were wrong." I started to cry even harder. I managed to rip my arm out of Micky's grip and ran down to the shelter.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven:

I burst into the shelter and flung myself on the hammock, making it swing slightly. Tears flooded out of my eyes, rolling off the leaves of the bed and onto the floor. I sobbed uncontrollably. How could I be so stupid? I knew that I couldn't keep that big a secret from Micky for that long.

"Ginny?" called a calm voice from the doorway. I sat up and looked through my tears. Tall, dark-brown hair, green hat…

"M-Mike," I sniffled. I quickly got off the hammock and ran over to him, throwing my arms around his shoulders. I squeezed my eyes shut. After a few seconds, I heard the door quietly close behind Mike and I felt his arms weave around my waist, hugging me tightly. "Mike, I…I'm so stupid," I sobbed.

"Shh," he shushed me, rubbing my back. "No you're not. Micky was the stupid one for ever letting you go. He didn't exactly give you a second chance."

"He's right though," I cried. "I feel horrible!" I dug my face into Mike's chest and sobbed some more. Mike stroked my hair gently. It felt…good. _Really_ good. I sighed in pleasure. "I like that." Mike chuckled and curled a lock of my red hair around his forefinger.

"Ginny, when you came to see our show on that ocean liner I really wanted to make you mine," he told me. Through one ear, I could hear what he was saying. Through the other, I could only hear his heartbeat. It was slow, steady, and loud. Then, what he said registered in my mind. I pulled away from his chest and looked up at him. His soft, brown eyes stared steadily back.

"You did?" I asked. He nodded.

"I did. I still do." Mike cupped my face in his hands and stroked my cheek.

He looked _so_ kissable right now. His lips were shiny and puffy and I imagined pressing my own lips to them. That feeling was fantastic. I…wanted to test my theory, so I slowly kissed him. It was like we were the only two people in the world. Whether we were or not was another story. When we pulled apart, Mike rested his forehead on mine.

"I love you, Geneva Robinson," he smiled.

(-)(-)(-)

Later that night, I realized that I was now horribly attracted to all four boys on the island. My mind replayed episodes from the Animal Channel and I blinked, attempting to keep those images away like I always did when I got freaked out. What was that thing about bucks butting heads if they liked the same doe? Ooh! That would be painful!

"No," I said out loud, shaking my head vigorously. "They aren't deer, Geneva. They're adult men. They'll find a better way than violence."

My mind flashed to…the History Channel? Oh God! Dueling knights fighting for the honor of their lady fair! I whimpered and screwed my eyes shut. I had to stop this. I had to pick a guy before someone got hurt. Quickly found a place on the beach, stared out at the waves, and did some serious thinking.

Peter: the adorably cute one. I hadn't had that much to do with Peter, yet I still liked him. He was more of my little brother than my lover and there was something lacking when we kissed. Not that I didn't think he was still adorably cute. I just hated to see him waste his time with me when he could be off with a girl that loved him ten times more than I did.

Then there was Davy. He was an amazing kisser. That much was for sure. But did I actually love him? I thought he was incredibly attractive, yes. And sometimes that accent made me melt into a little puddle. But I decided a long time ago that love required more than just a pretty face and a hot accent.

And there was Micky. I paused for a moment while I thought about the possibility. I did love the way he got excited about small things and the way he treated me and trusted me. And he said he loved me. Honestly, I was pretty sure I loved him back. But then, I remembered the argument we had. "I _thought_ I loved you," he had said. Maybe he didn't love me anymore. Besides that, he did abandon me without even giving me a second chance to prove I was sorry. No. It wasn't him.

Finally…Mike. He was so sweet and gentlemanly. He'd never drop me like a hot potato just because I was hanging out with another guy. Mike was more level-headed than that. He'd give me a fair chance before convicting me. I smiled, finally at peace with myself. When the time came, I would gently tell the other boys that I picked Mike. He was the one for me.

(-)(-)(-)

A few days had passed and the nights were starting to get colder. I was a little worried about how I was going to keep warm in my little, tattered nightgown which now had lost three whole centimeters off the bottom. It now came exactly two inches below my behind. If I lost much more, I wouldn't be able to walk around the island without giving the boys a good show.

"It's getting late," Mike told me as I sat on the beach, watching the stars. "You should get to bed. Might get too cold out here." I looked at him and smiled.

"I'm not sleepy at all," I sighed. "You know, I think I'll take a quick walk around the island to tire me out." We had established about a month and a half back that there were no headhunters or horribly deadly animals here.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Mike asked, taking my hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Nah," I shrugged. "It's okay. I have some thinking to do." Mike nodded, kissed my cheek, and headed off into the shelter to get some sleep. I got up and dusted myself off before starting my walk.

The lovely ocean breeze kept me cool as I strolled along the shoreline. It had been approximately half a year since we'd been wrecked. But it didn't seem so bad anymore. After all, I had Mike. That wasn't such a bad tradeoff: the comforts of modern living for a nice guy who loves me. I took a deep breath of the salty air and sighed. Then, I began to hear something that wasn't a normal night noise. But it was familiar to me.

"Micky, you just don't know what you have until it's gone, hmm? You had the girl! You loved her! She loved you, you think! And what do you do? You scream at her and dump her." I smiled softly at the familiar sound of Micky scolding himself. I didn't enjoy it, so to speak, but listening to it was one of the only ways I could find out what he was really thinking these days. He never talked to me directly anymore.

I silently crept toward where Micky's voice was coming from. Peeking around a tree, I could see a little, round clearing. In the middle of the clearing, his back to me, was Micky. I sighed inwardly. Seeing him still gave me little shivers. "NO!" my inner voice shouted. "You love Mike! Get over it!"

"What do you plan on doing now, smart guy?" Micky asked the air. "How're you supposed to get her back when she's with Davy? Or Mike? Or Peter? Or whoever she's with right now." He paused for a moment. "But…if she's happy…isn't that what's important? What if I get her back and she's not happy and we end up breaking up again and then she'll hate me and not even want to be my friend and I have to go to some crazy place like Argentina so she'll be happy because she'll be away from me!" He began to sniffle.

Oh my gosh. Was he crying? I felt horrible for making him cry!

"God, I love her," Micky whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek. My mind froze in its tracks. So he _did_ still love me…

"Tough," announced one of my inner voices. "You picked _Mike_, remember? _You_ love Mike."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight:

"You know, you have really pretty eyes," Mike complimented as we walked along the shoreline towards the shelter, our hands tangled together. I giggled.

"Thank you," I smiled. "You have very nice eyes too." Mike tilted his head like he was tipping his hat and winked at me.

"I do my best," he grinned. It was beginning to get dark and the stars were out, twinkling their romantic light down on the beach. I sighed in contentment. Yet, something was stirring in my mind. I shoved it into the recesses of my brain, not wanting to ruin the moment by thinking.

When we came to the shelter, a fire had already been built (most likely by Davy) and some kind of fish was roasting over the flames (probably caught by Micky and put there by Peter). A while ago, we had set up four large logs next to the fire to act as benches. Mike helped me sit on one of the logs before seating himself.

"I love you, Ginny," Mike sighed as he stretched his arm around me. I smiled and kissed him on the lips.

"I love you too," I whispered when we pulled apart. He leaned in for more.

"This is sickening," a voice sneered. I turned toward the shelter. Micky lounged in the doorway, the most disgusted look printed on his face. "Public displays of affection don't suit you two at all."

"Mick, they wouldn't be public if you'd leave," Mike pointed out, trying to gently tell Micky that he didn't want him there. Micky either did not pick up on the signals or ignored them and sat down on my other side.

"Turnabout is fair play, Michael," he growled. Mike looked very confused. I'm sure I did too. My eyes darted from Mike to Micky as the argument continued.

"What are you talking about?" Mike asked in disbelief. Micky looked in my direction and then glared at Mike again. His eyes were filled with anger.

"You _stole_ her from me," he snarled. Mike stood up quickly, Micky mirroring this action.

"Now listen, Mick," Mike stated, laughing nervously, "I didn't _steal_ Ginny. You dumped her. She was single, unattached, and available."

"What're you two arguing about?" Davy asked almost cheerily as he walked down from the woods, Peter in tow.

"No!" Micky exclaimed, still fighting with Mike. "She was cheating on me with Davy! She wasn't single! But you still went after her!"

"You're with _Mike_?" Davy said darkly, glaring at me. "I thought _I_ had you."

"You're with _Davy_?!" Mike shouted. "Have you been _all_ this time?" I couldn't think of what to say to this, so I just stared at my feet. Mike groaned and turned back to the argument. "Peter, were _you_ in on this little thing too?"

"I…I just kissed her one night," Peter stuttered, not wanting to get too deep into this. "She…I thought she was taken, so I left her alone after that."

"At least _someone_ on this island has morals!" Davy exclaimed.

"Look who's talking, thief!" Micky shrieked, his voice cracking. "If you didn't get all flirty with _my_ girlfriend, I wouldn't have gotten mad and dumped her, Mike wouldn't have ever had her in the first place, and we wouldn't be having this fight!"

"We aren't fighting!" Mike shouted. "There's nothing to fight _about_! Geneva is _mine_! She's been mine for a long time now!"

"How long have you been cheating on me?" Davy yelled in my direction.

"Cheating on _you_?" Micky asked in disbelief. "_You_ were the one who seduced her into cheating on _me_ in the first place!"

That was it. Davy pulled back his hand and socked Micky in the gut. Micky reeled back, falling over one of the logs. He scrambled to his feet and punched Davy in the face. Both boys attacked and Mike attempted to pry them off each other.

"You chick stealer!" Micky shouted before hitting Mike in the jaw. Mike felt the spot for a moment before furrowing his brow and leaping into the fray. It was like in those cartoons when people get into a fistfight. There was just a big cloud of sand with the occasional leg, arm, or head sticking out. Peter covered his eyes. Whether it was to keep out the violence or "hide," I don't know. I hugged my legs to my chest and bowed my head, crying into my knees.

I heard a scream and I shot my head up to see what had happened. Mike had just smashed Micky's nose and blood was now gushing out. I shrieked.

"MONSTERS!" I cried. "YOU'RE ALL IMMATURE, UNCIVILIZED MONSTERS!" I had never dreamed that I would have shouted like that at the boys. I had always imagined them being adult men. But I was wrong. Only Peter was smart enough to keep away from violence and he was "the dummy." I began to sob and I ran into the shelter, slamming the door shut.

(-)(-)(-)

Distant thunder rolled as I cried on the hammock. I could hear arguing outside, and despite how much I wanted to go out there and kill them all (well, at least, Davy, Mike, and Micky) for proving my Animal Channel analogy was quite correct, I stayed in my spot. Tears streamed down my cheeks like a waterfall and I sniffled. As I heard someone exclaim the word "girlfriend," I let out a wail that was so loud, it made the three of them (Peter was still attempting to stay out of it) fall absolutely silent for a few minutes.

I could hear the wind pick up a little. It was okay. The sea breeze felt good on my skin as it swept through the small cracks in the shelter's walls. The cry of the seabirds could even be heard at night and I was reminded of that time that I thought of ukulele strains playing through the woods on that very first day on the island.

But, then the wind began to pick up more. It was soon howling and I could no longer hear the boys' argument. My hammock began to sway strongly back and forth as water began to trickle through the roof of the shelter. Then, I realized…it was a storm. My eyes shot open, the tears suddenly gone. Quickly, I stood up and rushed to the doorway. Looking out at the fire, now doused by the rain, I could see the boys.

They were all staring up at the sky, standing in a perfectly straight line. On the far left, closest to me, was Davy. His hand shielded his eyes from the still-bright clouds as he looked up with a puzzled expression. Next to him stood Peter who looked a little scared. His knees were knocking together and his mouth was slightly agape. Micky was after that and he had a look of utter terror plastered across his face. To be honest, he looked pretty hot when he was scared. Finally, there was Mike. He stood, staring at the sky calmly, as if he knew this was going to happen.

There was a long silence interrupted only by the howling of the wind. Suddenly, there was a crack of thunder and a flash of lightning and all five of us screamed like little girls. They made a beeline for the shelter and I scrambled back before I could be stampeded over. Peter latched onto Davy and would not let go no matter how hard Davy struggled. Micky screamed and ran around the shelter in little circles. Mike hugged my waist, holding me to him in safety. But despite his arms surrounding me, I couldn't help but fear for my life.

"WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE!" Micky shouted as he made his sixteenth trip around the shelter. At this, Peter began to cry. Davy attempted to cheer him up by telling him that Micky was just overreacting like he always did.

"B-B-But Micky said the boat was going to sink," Peter pointed out. Davy thought a moment before starting to cry himself.

"Will you quiet down," Mike admonished the boys. "No one is going to die. These walls were built strong and sturdy!" With this, a huge wave of water splashed through the far wall and drenched Mike from head to toe, soaking me in the process. A salty taste splashed in my mouth as I looked up at him.

"I picked the _wrong_ guy to stand with," I muttered as Mike wiped the water out of his eyes. More waves began to crash into the shelter and it was slowly filling up with water. Even though it was draining out the side wall, the side wall was built a lot more water-tight than the wall facing the ocean. It was poor planning on the boys' part. Why no one thought to open the door and let the water spill out, I have no idea. I was too busy drowning to think of it myself.

Lightning struck again and the shelter split apart into tiny little fragments. I screamed, but the sound was lost in the crashing of the thunder and the thrashing of the sea. The flooding water from the shelter whisked me out to the shoreline. The waves quickly dragged me out into deeper water and my head was dragged under the surf. I coughed as I came back up to the surface, but I was soon pulled back under again.

I could hear shouting from the shore and then a splash as someone dove into the churning ocean. As I felt arms wrap around my waist, I knew I was in safe hands: Mike's. I felt something brush my leg and I remembered Micky's leech incident. I let out a bloodcurdling scream before losing consciousness.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine:

When I woke up again, I was laying in the forest. Trees had been snapped in half by the force of the winds and palm fronds were everywhere. My head hurt! I tried to lift myself up, but I couldn't. It was too much work and I was too weak. I fell back on the ground, my head cushioned by a large pile of leaves.

"Ginny!" someone screamed at the top of their lungs. I knew that scream. I forced myself up on my elbows in time to feel two strong arms surround me in a hug. I wrapped my arms around his neck, returning the hug graciously. "Oh my God! I thought I lost you and you fainted when I swam out to you in the water and you screamed right in my ear but I kept swimming because I just love you that much and I was begging you not to die on me because I would die if you died and I can't stop talking. Oh my God, Ginny! Oh my God!" He was crying. I remembered feeling awful for making him cry before…Wait…_He_ had saved me…Not _Mike_.

I looked up into his face, some shock in my eyes. His own eyes were hypnotizing. It was like once you got into them, you had to find a freaking information kiosk to get out again. My mind flashed back to the first time we kissed. He said that's how he decided to tell me that he loved me. I leaned up and kissed Micky squarely on the lips. He immediately kissed back, stroking my messy, red hair and curling it around his fingers. I moved my hands down to his arms and hovered there. For a skinny guy, he felt pretty strong. When we pulled apart I stared at him, a watery smile on my lips.

"That's how I decided to say it," I whispered, my eyes tearing up slightly. Micky looked confused, but then realized what I meant. His face brightened and he leaned back down again for another kiss.

(-)(-)(-)

"Stupid storm," Davy muttered under his breath as he picked up a scrap of driftwood. "Coming right at the wrong time like that. What does it think it is?"

"Planning on knocking its block off, Davy?" Mike sneered as he wrapped a vine around a corner, making a section of the wall facing the ocean water-tight. Davy paused for a moment, his fists clenching and unclenching around the board, but he soon calmed down a bit and brought the supply over to the shelter.

"At least _I_ don't steal other guys' girls," he growled. "Especially when that guy is a friend." I rolled my eyes. Ever since we had started rebuilding, Mike and Davy were going at it like a bickering set of old ladies.

"I didn't steal your girl, shorty," Mike mumbled. "You stole her from Micky. Micky broke up with her. She was technically single because she was not rightfully yours." Davy's eyes flamed up for a moment, but it died back down to a contained house-fire. He turned away from Mike and walked down the beach.

"You okay?" I asked as he bent down next to me to pick up some driftwood. Davy was silent for a second. Then, he looked up at me with big Bambi eyes like Peter sometimes did. Only Davy's Bambi eyes weren't played nearly as well and ended up looking faked.

"He called me 'shorty,'" he whined. "Mike doesn't do that…ever." I knew that Davy was incredibly sensitive about his height. After all, I was exactly as tall as he was. However, I was a girl and shortness was accepted. I patted Davy on the shoulder and gave his a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Don't worry about that too much," I smiled. "Mike's just having a bad day. We all are. After that storm, it wouldn't surprise me if Mike snapped at poor Peter. I have a feeling he's going to have the worst day of us all. Davy, would you look after him for me…Just for today?" Davy gave me a hug before scooping up the wood and trotting back over to the shelter. I knew he'd make sure Peter was okay all throughout the day. And it would give him something to think about besides Mike insulting him and yelling at everyone.

"Hey, Geneva," Mike called, "help bring over the wood." Mike had stopped calling me "Ginny" because he was mad at me. I rolled my eyes and lugged another load of driftwood over to him.

"Look, Mike," I sighed as I plopped the wood by his feet. "I still love _you_. We need to talk." Mike didn't avert his glance from the wall.

"What's there to talk about," he scowled coldly. I put my hand on his shoulder and his whole back tensed and released.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," I whispered. "I didn't mean for it to go that far." Mike was silent. "I don't know what came over me. Being stranded with four boys went to my head I guess." No reaction. "Mike, please talk to me. I want to get this straightened out!" Mike whirled around and looked at me, his eyes slowly watering.

"If you really were sorry," he said, biting his lip, "why did you kiss Micky earlier today?" My mind suddenly went back in time, remembering the moment.

Oh God! Micky's kisses felt _so_ good! When I was with him, I felt like nothing mattered anymore, like as long as we were together, the world could explode and I'd be perfectly okay. He was adorably awkward yet humorously handsome. The next thing I knew, fingers were snapping in front of my face.

"Huh?" I blinked obliviously.

"You're not even listening anymore!" Mike exclaimed. "I don't even have your attention, let alone your love!" There was a long pause as Mike just stared at me. Finally, he said something totally unexpected. "It's all Micky's fault that you aren't mine now."

"_What?!_" I shouted. "How can you say it's _Micky's_ fault?!"

"What's my fault?" Micky asked good-naturedly. Mike turned to him and the argument began.

"You're the problem on this island," Mike sneered. Micky looked confused.

"Whaddya mean, Mike?"

"If you hadn't been with Geneva, Davy wouldn't have seduced her into cheating on you, you would never have found out and broken up with her, and I wouldn't have been dating a girl who was cheating on me in the first place!" Mike shouted.

"What are you talking about?" Davy asked incredulously, having heard the whole conversation. "I would have asked Ginny out even faster if Micky hadn't before me."

Utter confusion broke out on the beach. Everyone was yelling at once. Micky was saying something about how none of this was his fault. Davy was groaning that all this arguing was pathetic and a waste of time. Mike was arguing with Micky that if he loved me so much, he would have let me move on instead of trying to steal me back incessantly. Peter was trying to break up the fight by saying things like "Arguing will get you nowhere," "Stop before you say something you're going to regret," and "Can't we all just get along?"

The noise was deafening. I held my hands over my ears. I thought of that long thought process I had gone through about who I would want to end up with. Mike needed me the most. He got into horrible moods when I wasn't with him. What if he killed someone or himself because of me? I pressed my hands closer to my ears and squeezed my eyes shut as the noise increased. Finally, my mind blanked.

"SHUT UP!" I shouted. "WHY ARE YOU GUYS FIGHTING OVER THIS _STUPID_ THING? I PICK MICKY!" As soon as those words left my mouth, my eyes shot open and my mouth hung there like a dead man. I quickly covered my mouth with my hand, emitting a small squeal. All four boys stopped and stared at me. I could tell they weren't expecting my answer either.

"Y-You do?" Micky stuttered. I couldn't say anything. I was too shocked at my own decision. My head nodded of its own accord. Micky ran over to me, hugging me to him and kissing me softly on the lips. "I love you, Geneva Robinson!" he exclaimed, squeezing me tighter. I could hardly help but smile. Maybe my Freudian slip didn't do me too much harm…

"Didn't see that coming," Peter shrugged.

"Really?" Davy asked.

"I could've sworn she was going to pick Mike," Peter revealed.

"Come to think of it, I would've guessed that too," Davy admitted. Mike looked at me with hurt in his eyes. I managed to pull away from Micky and walked over to him.

"I'm sorry," I sighed. "I hope we can still be friends." I extended my hand for Mike to shake. He took it and quietly kissed the back of my hand before smiling weakly and walking into the shelter to continue his work.

(-)(-)(-)

Pitch black night surrounded the five of us as we sat around the warm light of the campfire. Davy, Peter, and Mike each had a log all to themselves while I sat on Micky's lap on the fourth log. The shelter had been completely fixed earlier that day. Mike claimed that no water could possibly get through the walls now.

"_Laugh, cuz the music is funny. And the bass sounds offbeat…Ain't that neat?_" Davy sang as we patted out percussion riffs on the logs and on our knees. "_Laugh, when you lose all your money and you can't find your shoes to cover your feet!_" Peter cut in.

"_It's not so hard to see exactly what I'm after_," he sang. I could not have smiled bigger. My troubles were over! I finally had picked my one boy. I would never cheat on him again as long as I lived. I wouldn't get in trouble. I was so happy I could have burst. When Peter finished his verse, Mike cut in.

"_Laugh, when you're keeping a secret and it seems to be known by the rest of the world. Laugh, when you go to a party and you can't tell the boys from the girls,_" he sang as his Texas accent twanged.

The fire crackled appreciatively as I fed it a dry branch. The warmth batted me in the face and made me settle into Micky's lap even more comfortably than before. He didn't seem to mind. In fact, he didn't even seem to notice, his chin resting on my shoulder while his breathing rubbed against my neck. Suddenly, there was only the sound of the fire popping. Mike had stopped singing.

"What's wrong?" I asked quietly. Mike didn't say anything. He stared off into space, out at the ocean. His eyes squinted as he tried to make out some kind of shape. Finally, his mouth fell open and he wore an astonished expression on his face.

"It…It's a ship," he whispered. I had totally forgotten that ships meant rescue. I had also lost track of how long I'd been on the island. Days had simply melted into months.

Mike leapt up and began building up the fire as high as he possibly could. Davy, Micky, and Peter all called for help from the shoreline as I helped Mike pile dry wood into the fire. The blaze was hotter and hotter each second. I was sweating like I had been trapped in a desert for seven years under the scorching sun and so was Mike.

"IT'S COMING!" Micky exclaimed as he ran back to us. "WE'RE SAVED!"

(-)(-)(-)

The captain of the ship that saved us wore all white: white coat, white slacks, white hat, white shoes, white socks, white tie, white shirt, white vest. Absolutely everything about the man was white right down to the color of his bushy hair and mustache. His smiling eyes held a concern in them as he beheld me in my two-inches-from-revealing-my-hindquarters nightdress and the boys' tattered and ragged clothes.

"I can't believe it," he muttered. "Lost for a year and a half and still alive. Everyone thought they were dead." Micky put his arm around me and grinned at the captain.

"Can we go home now?" Peter asked. "It's not that I don't appreciate the island for being here, it's just that I want to tell my family that I'm okay. They'll be worried sick."

"Absolutely, Mr. Tork," the captain smiled graciously. "My vessel is your vessel."

"Really? Groovy!" Micky exclaimed. "Does that mean I can drive?"

"NO!" everyone shouted at the same time. The captain laughed nervously.

"You must be very tired," he said. "Why don't you leave the navigating to me and clean yourselves up. I'm sure we can find some new clothes for you to change into and you're welcome to take a shower in my cabin's bathroom."

I was surprised that after that cruise ship sank I was brave enough to walk up that gangplank. But, I suppose after a year and a half on a small island, one is likely to go insane. After all, plenty of crazy stuff happened there…


	10. Letter from the Author

Dear Readers,

I hope you enjoyed this story. For all intents and purposes, it is over. However, since my readers are quite often my friends, I have decided to share just a little bit of what was going on in my life as I wrote this particular story.

Let me first say that my best friend (neatoburrito) is another author on . We are very close and often have similar ideas. Be on the lookout for a story about being trapped on a desert island from this great writer. I got a lot of my inspiration from her amazing brain and I could not have finished this story without her pushing me to the end of the road.

Next, at the time that I was writing chapters eight and nine, my own love life was taking turns for the better. Although scenes like this are spread throughout the story, the majority of the scenes based on my daydreams of my love life are in these two chapters. These daydreams include the way that Micky and Geneva say they love each other without using words and the scene with Mike at the very beginning of chapter eight. My imagination was a great help to me and I suggest that you use your own imagination to create stories of your own.

Finally, I would like to say that I do not own the characters of Mike Nesmith, Davy Jones, Peter Tork, or Micky Dolenz. The characters were created in the 1960's and the real actors are still alive and well although Peter has a rare form of cancer. Have him in your thoughts and in your prayers if you are into that kind of thing. The only characters that I do own are Geneva Robinson, the porter-buddy, the gay waiters, and the kindly captain.

Thank you for reading!

Sincerely,

Comickazi13


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